My Love's Labor Lost
by Designated Writer
Summary: Niles learns he might not be able to give Daphne the one gift she always wanted. Complete!
1. Daphne's Late, Again

**__**

My Love's Labor Lost

Daphne's Late, Again  
  
From the first time I saw her and throughout two failed and terrible marriages, and to help me get through the day, I thought about her.

Even after we finally got together, had no worries between us, I thought about her.

Whether it was going about my day, or even in a session, I thought about her.

Now we have been married slightly over a year, well, some things never change, and I think about her.

I nervously and distractedly tapped my pencil on the notepad that I am supposed to be taking session notes on.

So far, the only "notes" I had written down were on possible names, all of which had been scratched out.

My thoughts returned to her and to last night at dinner.

-------

"Niles, I'm late."

I looked up from my salad that I was playing with.

"Late?" I echoed. Then, cautiously optimistic I clarified, "As in late, late?"

She smiled and cocked her eyebrow suggestively.

"As in late, late," she confirmed.

I sprang from my chair, picked her up and spun her around.

"Niles, you silly sod, put me down."

I did as instructed and then kneeled down in front of her and wrapped my arms around her mid section, laying my head atop her stomach.

I could almost hear their heartbeat.

"Have you seen Dr. Stewart?" I asked, as she stroked my hair.

"I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at 2."

"I'm coming with you," I insisted and she continued to stroke.

"But isn't tomorrow Thursday?"

"So?" I questioned and got up and flexed my bad knee. Whenever I kneel for too long it always stiffens and flares up my old bossa nova injury in my left knee.

"Isn't that Mrs. Nordstrom's day?" she double-checked.

I frowned at just the mere mention of her name. Mrs. Nordstrom is my proverbial hypochondriac who has her weekly sessions on Thursdays at 1:45.

"I could always have Mrs. Woodson cancel all my afternoon appointments," I eagerly suggested as I went to clear away some of the dinner dishes.

She came up from behind me and gave me a hug.

"It's all right love. There will be other appointments."

I frowned, but she was right.

"Just promise me you won't make any more appointments on Thursday afternoons."

"I promise."

-------

I dared a quick glimpse at my watch and prayed that it would reveal that her session would soon be completed.

I still had 15 more minutes to kill.

I continued to tap my pencil and quickly did the mental math.

He or she would be due in April and could possibly share either one of our birthdays (mine is the third and hers the eighteenth).

Okay. I was jumping the gun, but you have got to understand Daphne and I have been trying since late spring to no prevail.

-------

The call came in on my cell phone around 3:18, and nearly caused me to jump out of my skin.

I was never more nervous, but nervous with excitement.

"Hello, Dr. Niles Crane," I stupidly answered.

"Niles, its Daphne," she unnecessarily returned.

I flipped open my session notes notebook and the list of crossed out names I had composed earlier.

"What do you think of the name..."

"Niles, slow down..."

The downcast tone in her voice conveyed it all, there was no need for her to say anything more.

It was yet another false alarm.

I don't recall who apologized to the other first, not that it really mattered.

We were both upset and disappointed once again.

Our conversation ended the same way they always did, with her in tears and with me struggling to fight back my own so I could be strong for us both.

"Everything is going to be all right my love..." I reassured her again, even though I wasn't sure if I believed it anymore.

"...we'll keep on trying."

To be continued...


	2. Reality Nicks

**__**

Reality Nicks  
  
I toss and turn restlessly.

I haven't gotten this little sleep since my love and I were still trying to establish what Dad aptly called, 'our sleeping grove'.

I roll over and look over at the clock.

3:04.

I plop my head back down on my pillows.

As much as I hated to lie to her, I just couldn't tell her the truth.

I had called her and told her I would be home late because I had a 'last minute appointment.'

The only thing I didn't say was the appointment was my own.

After I had talked to Daphne earlier in the afternoon and she shared our disappointing news, I had Mrs. Woodson make an appointment with Dr. Stevens for me.

It had been several years since I had seen him.

The last time was when I was still married to Maris.

He said he could squeeze me in at 6:30.

I look over at her, my sleeping beauty.

Never in my wildest dreams (believe you and me, I had my fair share) did I ever think it would actually happen.

Happily exhausted, after a passionate night of lovemaking, I would lay down besides her. Wrapping my own body around hers and holding her in my arms all night long, only to wake up the following morning to find us still locked in one another's hold.

Even after we finally got together and professed our undying love to one another, my insecurity issues (no thanks to Maris) still reared its ugly head.

For a long time, I would purposely nick myself with my razor while I watched her sleep in the mornings, just to reassure myself it wasn't a dream.

I give her a soft kiss and carefully slip out of bed as not to awaken her.

Swinging my feet over the side, I slide into my slippers and pull on my dressing gown and tiptoe past her and out the door, and make my way downstairs.

I aimlessly walk from room to room with only moonbeams and starlight guiding my course.

I keep replaying the last few minutes of my appointment in my head.

-------

"I'm sorry Niles. Your test results show that your sperm has very low motility."

I mentally translate: slow movers.

Perhaps I had just heard Dr. Stevens wrong.

This has got to be a mistake.

After all, I came here to eliminate the possibility, not to confirm it.

I decide to ask for clarification.

"So, are you saying it might be difficult for Daphne and me to conceive?"

"I'm very sorry Niles," he apologized again. "But I won't lie to you. Yes. Extremely difficult."

I don't recall my response or if I even had one.

For the rest is a blank.

The next thing I remember was Lisa, Dr. Stevens' nurse, lifting my head and giving me some water.

From what I was told, after Dr. Stevens told me the news, I had one my panic attacks and hyperventilated, eventually blacking out.

-------

I end up out on the terrace.

It's a crisp, cool autumn night.

I take in a slow, deep breath.

The cool air stings my lungs.

I slowly let it back out, whereupon I can actually see my breath leave my nostrils and mouth.

I look up at the moon, which is now a blur, for my repressed tears have now surfaced.

In preparation, I offer up my forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry my love."

-------

After completing her tenure on the swing, she shouts out, with arms spread wide.

"Mommy, mommy."

Responding to her shouts, she too, holds out her arms wide.

She jumps in her mother's lap and draws her mother into a big bear hug and declares.

"I love you mommy."

"She has your eyes," I compliment with a hint of sadness and guilt.

Regrettably, I knew full well that because of my shortcomings, neither my love nor I would ever hear those words directed at us.

Noticing my presence, she giggles and greets me.

"Hi Uncle Niles."

I smile at her and return her greeting.

"Hello Alice."

"Uncle Niles?"

"Yes Alice?"

"Why do you look so sad?" the inquisitive and perceptive five year old asks me.

Saving me from making some lame excuse and a nosebleed, Roz suggests.

"Uncle Niles isn't feeling very well today. Why don't you go play in the sandbox for a little while until we're done talking."

Without hesitation, she agrees.

"Okay."

"Goodbye Alice."

She had only taken a few steps towards the sandbox when she retreats and comes back over to me and gives me a bear hug.

"Why thank you Alice, what did I do to deserve this?"

"You just looked like you could use one. See you later Uncle Niles."

She withdrew her arms from around my neck and waves, skipping off to the sandbox.

Roz turns back to face me.

"Okay, so what did she say when you told her?"

I immediately drop my eyes.

"You didn't tell her, did you?"

Frustrated, I push off the park bench and start pacing.

"It's not an easy thing to tell someone. Especially not after the news we received earlier in the afternoon," I say in my defense.

"Niles," she reminds me, as if I need any reminders.

"Daphne is not just someone. She's your wife. The woman you promised to love and honor for the rest of your life."

"Don't you think I know that?" I snap at her sarcastically.

"Niles..."

"Look, Roz, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just that..."

I sit back down on the bench and bury my face in my hands.

"It's okay Niles," she consoles and soothes my back.

I lift my head and look straight ahead and at all the screaming children at play.

"That's not the only promise I made to Daphne..." I begin the memory.

-------

"I still can't believe it..." She gleefully squealed and ran out on the terrace of the honeymoon suite to complete her sentence.

"I'm Mrs. Niles Crane," she finished with a shout and to whoever was within earshot.

I put on some soft, romantic music and go out to join her.

I lock my eyes onto hers.

She's not the only one who can't believe it.

For a brief moment, I toyed with the idea of going to the bathroom to find my razor.

Instead, I thought of a better alternative to test the reality of the moment.

"May have I this dance Mrs. Niles Crane?" I invited.

"I would be honored Mr. Niles Crane," she accepted.

It was our first dance as husband and wife.

As I felt her in my arms, razor blades became a distant memory.

-------

"Later that same night, after a long night of lovemaking, she made her request."

I fight back the tears that are now threatening to choke me.

"She made me promise to give her the one gift that I alone could give her. The gift of love."

"Niles, listen to me. Daphne loves you more than anything and I know that once you tell her..."

"Please Roz..." I interrupt. "No false platitudes. I can't give my love the one and only gift she's ever wanted from me. I'm such a loser. "

The tears unleash and roll down my cheeks.

I flinch.

"Niles? What is it?"

"The tears. They sting the cut on my cheek."

Roz asks, referring to the cut on my cheek and fearing that I might be regressing to my former habits.

"Did you purposely nick yourself while shaving this morning?"

"No."

"Good. I was afraid after what you just told me that you might..."

"Actually, I did it last night after Daphne fell asleep and before I went to bed," I confess.

"Niles..."

"Can you blame me Roz? After the day I had just gone through can you blame me for hoping that the whole day was nothing more than a nightmare?"

To be continued...


	3. Niles is a Little Slow

**__**

Niles is a Little Slow

"I'm really sorry Daph." Frasier laid a comforting hand atop his sister-in-law's. "How did Niles take the news?"

She sighed.

"I don't know Frasier. I know Niles is just as frustrated as I am right now. But, I'm not going to lie to you either, this has put a tremendous amount of strain on our marriage, and with each false alarm…" her voice trailed off and she took a sip of her latte.

"He always puts on a brave face and doesn't seem to be discouraged, but nevertheless, after each false alarm he pushes me further and further away. Especially this time. If I didn't know better, I'd think he blames me for all this."

Frasier shot her a 'you've got to be kidding look'.

"Daphne, listen to me. Niles worships the ground you walk on. You know that. I know my little brother he would never blame, or think to blame any of this on you. You're just upset and you're not thinking clearly. You know very well that Niles has always had trouble expressing his emotions and letting others in, especially after everything Maris has put him through."

"I guess you're right."

"You know I am. Don't give up on him, Daph. If anyone can reach him, it's you."

- - - - - - -

It was mid afternoon by the time Daphne arrived home from talking with Frasier.

Upon walking in the front door she was welcomed by piano music. She could instantly tell just by what song Niles was playing that he was upset. He was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

She softly shut the door behind her.

She tossed her purse down on the fainting couch and headed into the study.

- - - - - - - -

Since I had learned to play mostly by ear, I had always preferred to play with my eyes closed.

I had dreams, first with Maris and then with Daphne, of my child pounding out their first feeble attempt of Beethoven's Fur Elise on the piano, after first teaching them myself.

As I continued to play, I felt the sting of a small tear as it slid down my cheek and once again made contact with the cut.

I was drowning in my own insatiable dreams.

I was drowning in my sorrows and to what could have been.

What could have been…if it wasn't for me.

- - - - - - - -

From the doorway she could see him play.

After years of observing both Crane brothers play, she always felt Niles played more passionately, especially whenever he was upset or in pain, both of which he was in right now.

Unlike Frasier, who usually kept his piano lid open, Niles kept his closed. Adorned on top was her massive unicorn collection (that she hoped someday to pass down to their daughter, if they had a girl). The unicorns safeguarded the centerpiece of the piano lid--the cast iron dragon Niles had received from Roz. There was also a small collection of family pictures scattered throughout.

She took in a deep breath and walked over to the piano.

- - - - - - - -

"Niles," she greets me and walks over to the side of the piano and starts to rearrange her unicorns like pawns on a chessboard. Something she tends to do when she's upset.

I can tell she has been crying. It breaks my heart to know that in minutes I will be breaking hers.

"You've been crying," I comment.

"So I have," she replies, rather coolly. "I was surprised to find you gone when I got up this morning. You didn't even leave a note."

"I had trouble sleeping last night. I've had a lot on my mind, so, I thought the fresh air might help and I decided to take a walk in the park. But I was wrong not to leave you a note, I'm sorry."

She continues to rearrange.

I want to say something, for the silence is becoming uncomfortable and awkward. Before I can, she asks me, "Would you like to talk about what's on your mind?"

The invitation was offered and was mine to decline.

"Please, come and sit by me."

She came over and sat next to me on the piano bench.

"What's this?"

"What's what?"

"Niles, you didn't purposely cut yourself, did you?"

Her earlier coolness has abated, replaced with sympathy.

I don't answer, but I didn't need to, for she knows me all too well.

"Niles, talk to me. Don't shut me out. Why, my love?" She strokes my hair behind my ear, knowing that always comforts me in my times of distress.

My heart aches even more knowing what I am about to confess. I never hated myself more.

I knew better and that by not doing so I was disrespecting her, but I just couldn't bear to see it on her face.

Though I had witnessed the look many times firsthand with Maris, I will never forgive myself for causing Daphne to give it to me too.

Though it is rightly deserved (as were all of Maris') the look of disappointment she is bound to give me once when she finds out…

"Niles? I know you're upset about the false alarm," she unknowingly interrupts my thought and attempts to provide me with an opening.

I look at her one more time, fighting back my tears.

Oh, my love, I wish it were just that.

"Niles?"

I turn away from her and focus straight ahead. It was now or never and once started, there would be no turning back. I would tell her exactly like the way I had rehearsed with Roz earlier in the day at the park.

I attempt to take in a deep breath and fail but proceed anyway.

"Daphne, I know that I'm a little slow in telling you this and that I should have told you this earlier, but, I received some disappointing news myself yesterday…"

Just like on the eve of her wedding to Donny and on that balcony at the Wayside Inn, I am terrified of letting her get a word in, so I quickly keep talking.

"It seems that I suffer from both slow and low motility and it might not be possible for us to conceive. I'm so sorry."

There, it's done. I've said it.

Her silence is deafening.

It was worse than I imagined.

I lean over and place my arms down on the piano and bury my head in my arms.

All I can think is how I've let my love down and how much I hate myself for doing so, and how I'll never forgive myself for doing so…ever.

To be continued…


	4. Old Feelings, Resurfaced

**__**

Old Feelings, Resurfaced

I told Daphne this afternoon and instantly regretted my decision to do so.

Not that I expected her to take it or react any differently. After all, in her defense (and rightly so) I had just told her that I can't give her the one and only thing she has ever asked of me.

I let her down.

Just like I did Maris.

Even though I loved her unconditionally, I always knew Maris' love for me was conditional and I never had a problem with it. That may sound surprising to most people but it was the same love I received from Mother.

When someone loves you conditionally, the first thing you learn (and quickly) is when they are upset and when they have withdrawn their love for you. Sometimes you are given a "prelude" (as I like to call it) which in reality is a verbal thrashing and complete listing of all your shortcomings and faults. Maris always included a "prelude" while Mother did not. But both always gave the silent treatment. Depending on the gravity of the offense, this can and usually lasts anywhere from several days to several weeks.

And in some cases, months.

Why? (In other words, why have they stopped loving you?) You quickly learn what it takes and how to "win" their love back. I should clarify, "quickly" doesn't always mean you'll be forgiven once the gift is given. Chances are you won't be.

Again, with Maris, "How Do I Love Thee…?"

I bought her everything from a Dresden Shepherdess (as a peace offering when I was foolish enough to point out an extra syllable in a Haiku she'd written.) A candelabra, and not just any candelabra, a Louis Quatorzel. After all, nothing quite says "I'm sorry, I was foolish to think I could attempt to grow a moustache, please love me again" better. Or how about the ankle bracelet with the "M" charm I gave Maris for an anniversary present that sprained her ankle? After her initial screams of agony, I heard not one peep out of Maris for months. Or the time I bought her a new Mercedes just so we could make love for the first time in months?

Daphne.

I have failed her and have no idea how to make it up to her and how to win her love back again.

For no material possession can replace what I can't provide her.

After all, I'm sure her "condition" for loving me is, was, solely based on that I can give her a child. And now that I can't, she has no reason to love me (not that I can blame her).

"Niles…"

To be continued…


	5. Feelings Interrupted

**__**

Feelings, Interrupted

"Niles," she unknowingly interrupts my thoughts.

"I'm so sorry, my love," I mumble barely audible and apologize to her once again.

"Don't be sorry. We'll be all right," she reassures me and accepts my apology.

If only forgiving myself could be that simple.

That unconditional.

"You have no idea how badly I feel. I know that I've let you down and if there were any way I could change things… I would march into hell and back…I would…" I desperately try and explain but falter.

"Niles. It's all right. There are so many things they can do these days to help infertile couples, and until then…" she hints, prompting my curiosity.

I lift my head up.

"…I don't see why we can't give Mother Nature another try," she suggests as she unties her robe to reveal the sexy black lace negligee Roz had given her for her birthday a couple of years back.

Daphne starts to unbutton my shirt. She then lays the palm of her hand on my chest and slides it down the path of my scar left by my open-heart surgery that also divides my chest in half. She moves her hand up, coming to a rest on my heart.

How many times my heart had skipped a beat at her touch, or even at the mere promise of her touch. I never second-guessed and knew a touch from her then would be just as sweet as it would be now, but…

"Daphne, don't." I push both her and her hand away. "You don't have to pretend. I am quite versed in how this game works. I played it many times with Maris. I know full well that..." I curve my fingers into the quote sign. "Quote, unquote, your "condition", reason, for loving me is gone."

"Game? My condition?" she echoes and questions, hurt. "Niles, I don't understand."

I slam down on the keys of the piano in mounting frustration, rattling and toppling over some of the unstable unicorns.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" I snap at her, a little more sarcastically and harshly than I had intended it to be.

She wipes at her now resurfacing tears. The diamond in her engagement ring catches the light and momentarily blinds me and pulls on my own heartstrings.

I drop my eyes down to look at my own wedding band that encircles my ring finger on my left hand. The same rings that we had exchanged as a testament of our love and commitment to one another. That wasn't the only commitment I vowed to her that day, I also vowed to give her a child.

__

Our child…

"You listen to me Niles Crane," she sniffs and returns my attention back to the present, "if you honestly think I have stopped loving you, then don't even bother."

And I failed…

Again…

To be continued…


	6. Nothing but Air

**__**

Nothing but Air

The slamming of the front door signaled My Love's departure from The Montana to Gertrude's apartment.

I sigh heavily and slowly get up and set back up the unicorns that had fallen over because of my thoughtlessness earlier. As I do so, my eyes catch a glimpse of a particular photo. It is a rare photo of my now thirteen-year-old nephew, Frederick and me.

I gather the picture in my hands and go and sit by the fire for I have caught a chill. I study the picture closer and with more interest. It is from a few years back when he came to Seattle and had, (no thanks to Frasier-long story), won the National Spelling Bee. In the picture Frederick is "awarding" me his trophy. Before long, the picture becomes blurred in my trembling hands as I become misty-eyed and lost in a memory. A memory, a point in time that I never shared with anyone, for it was too painful. Even with Frederick, I shamefully lied, just to deny and spare the hurt feelings from resurfacing.

__

"Niles Crane…" the voice boomed and summoned me.

I was a small boned nine-year-old boy, with superior language skills and with a 156 IQ. I unsteadily made my way up to the microphone.

I looked down at my parents and Frasier, five years my senior, in the front row. By my own admission, I was obsessed with one thing and one thing only (ever since I was six) to win the National Spelling Bee (something Frasier had never done).

Dad, who joked and boasted (though not into sports, I still recognized and understood a sports reference when I heard one), with all the other fathers at the bee, that "some people might think he (meaning me) wasn't ready, that it was a mistake to bring me up to The Show right out of elementary school, but I made it." And now, not only did I make it, I've made it up to the very last word.

Mother on the other hand bragged to all the other mothers that even as good a speller that Frasier was, it couldn't, in mother's words "compare to Niles'". But in her own private moments with me, she stressed the importance of winning and its direct correlation to me receiving both her approval and her love.

She reminded me, again, that morning before the final round in the hotel room while combing my hair.

"Now listen to me Niles. I will not, and better not, hear you use the excuse that you lost because you are 'only nine' or because you were the 'youngest ever to compete in the National Bee'. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"On a more personal note my approval and love for you, I'm not going to lie to you and say "it doesn't matter if you win or lose"…cause you are old enough to know by now that it does."

Translation, I had better win, if I wanted her approval and love.

Frasier, who in later years would explain when retelling the tale to Frederick, that I "didn't even try to spell it…" And that I "…just stood there for a moment, then turned and walked off the stage." Of course Dad had to add "he was immediately disqualified and he never competed again."

And now that William Karek from Akron and that Peterson girl from Omaha had been eliminated (who were my toughest competitors all weekend), the moment was now within my grasp. All I had to do was spell this last word correctly and I would be National Champion, and I would also capture something much more coveted and elusive, my mother's conditional (the only kind she gave) love.

I look down at my mother and meet with her promising eyes that will fulfill a lifelong (even if it was only nine years at that point in my young life) dream. Contingent on me spelling this word correctly of course.

Ironic. The word has got to be the cruelest word there is.

My heart skipped irregularly. I wasn't sure whether to dismiss it as nerves or my congenital heart condition, or a mixture of both.

My palms were as sweaty as the sweat that had now beaded and gathered atop my forehead and rolled down my cheeks. Mixed with it, but undetectable and unbeknownst to others were my tears, my shame. My shame in knowing I was going to fail once again and not get my prize.

Make that the second cruelest.

"Niles Crane, your word is… contingent."

Contingent.

As in conditional.

As in the story of my life.

With arms spread open wide, and sobbing, I run towards Mother, desperately seeking her reaffirmation and hoping she has reconsidered her ultimatum. Upon reaching her, the enormous weight of the stress of the past few days takes its toll on me and my knees buckled and I collapsed at her feet. Hoping to be recharged by a hug, I instead get her stern reminder.

"I'm disappointed in you, you failed Niles. You know what that means…"

"But, I'm tried…" I mumble through my tears.

In a desperate move, I try and scoop her up instead. But she walks away, leaving me to catch nothing but air.

To be continued…


	7. The One Syllable Defense

**__**

The One Syllable Defense

"Niles." I hear Frasier's voice summoning me back to consciousness. "Niles," he repeats this a little more sternly and accompanies it with a shake of my shoulders. "Wake up."

I slowly open my eyes and glance up at my comfort zone. Absent are the cobwebs, dust bunnies and "nest" that would have greeted me if I had chosen to stay under Frasier's instead.

"I thought I'd find you under there," Frasier comments and questions. "Rough night?"

I crawl out from under the piano and shake loose my limbs that have stiffened up on me overnight.

"What was your first clue?"

"That would be the dark circles under your eyes."

I faintly smile and mouth the words "thanks" and walk over to the wet bar. "Sherry, Frasier?"

"Niles, it is only 8:30 in the morning isn't it a bit early for a drink?"

I shrug for lack of a better answer and just pour myself a glass and uncharacteristically chug it all down in one gulp and start to pour myself another.

"Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Daphne?"

"No." I refrain, letting my head and shoulders sag.

Frasier comes over and stands behind me.

"Niles," Frasier places his hands on my shoulders and gives them a slight squeeze. "You, more than anyone, should know how unwise and unhealthy it is for one to repress his emotions and keep them bottled up inside…"

"No!" I adamantly refuse again and slam down my glass, shattering it in the process.

"So," Frasier quips. "That's all you're going to say?"

__

I point to the last line of the Haiku she's written and for some reason that even I can't even phantom, she has asked for my opinion on it, and…

"Only one, small itsy-bitsy problem darl-…"

Her icy glare cuts me off and is used to deliver her message, or messages. The points of which are both loud and clear and serve their purpose. One, it's to remind me of her abhorrence for pet names, and secondly and more importantly, it's an admonition of me for my harsh words.

"It has one extra syllable too many," I state in my defense and duck as she hurls (what people didn't know about her was that her temper gave her, luckily only brief, unbelievable strength) a vase that her Aunt Patrice gave to us as a wedding present at my head.

The vase narrowly misses my head and crashes up against the fireplace hearth in a thousand little pieces, a tiny piece of which flies and cuts me right above the left eye.

I feel woozy and pull out my handkerchief and dab at the blood and try not to faint.

"Gwhich..." I attempt G-speak, hoping that it might lessen her (well-deserved) anger directed at me. I fail miserably and only accomplish in growing her ire even more.

"Maris." I try again. "I don't know what came over me. I was just being foolish. Please accept my apologies for pointing out the extra syllable and for my thoughtlessness." 

To be continued…


	8. A Stitch In Time

**__**

A Stitch in Time

"I got here as fast as I could. Thanks for calling me," Daphne said as she sat down by her brother-in-law in the busy and overcrowded emergency room.

She glanced back over her shoulder and to where they had called Niles in.

"How long has he been in there?" she nervously questioned and bit her lower lip.

Frasier looked at his watch. "About 20 minutes." Detecting his sister-in-law's fears, "Don't worry, he's going to be just fine." He reassuringly patted her knee.

"How did this happen?"

-------

"What happened?" I groggily question Frasier.

"Let's just say your fainting couch lived up to its name, shall we?"

I attempt to prop myself up on the couch when intense pain permeating from my left hand prevents me from doing so.

I close my eyes as my temporary amnesia lifts and what happened minutes earlier, comes rushing back to me.

"_Sherry, Frasier?"_

"Niles, it is only 8:30 in the morning isn't it a bit early for a drink?"

I shrug for lack of a better answer and just pour myself a glass and uncharacteristically chug it all down in one gulp and start to pour myself another.

"Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Daphne?"

"No," I refrain, letting my head and shoulders sag.

Frasier comes over and stands behind me.

"Niles," Frasier places his hands on my shoulders and gives them a slight squeeze, "you, more than anyone, should know how unwise and unhealthy it is for one to repress his emotions and keep them bottled up inside…"

"No!" I adamantly refuse again and slam down my glass, shattering it in the process.

"These aren't going to work…" Frasier unknowingly interrupts my memory.

"What's not going to work?"

"These gauze bandages…" Frasier comments in reference to his feeble attempts to bandage my hand. "They aren't going to work. You're going to need stitches."

"I don't think it's that bad…" I start to plead my defense and try to avoid looking at my damaged hand and blood so I don't pass out again.

"Niles, the cut is deep and you're losing blood faster than these bandages can absorb it."

With that, Frasier tightly wraps my hand in a hand towel in preparation to our trip to the emergency room.

"You had to use the Egyptian cotton, didn't you?" I wince in pain and from Frasier's towel selection choice.

Frasier casts me a disapproving glare as he digs his car keys from his coat pocket.

"I won't even dignify that with a reply. Now, let's go…"

-------

"Niles is repeating a terrible and an extremely unhealthy pattern. It's Maris all over again."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever Niles had a problem or fight with Maris, he reacted exactly as he is now. Shutting himself off and not letting anyone in, repressing his emotions. But, there is one notable difference." Frasier smiled.

"And what might that be?"

"He's with you now, and I know you care about him and love him more than anything."

"I have never loved anyone the way I love your brother."

"I'm not defending Niles, but how he reacted would have been how any male would have if he was told he was infertile. And while it is a common reaction for the male to feel inferior and unworthy, with Niles it goes a bit deeper than just that."

"What do you mean?"

"Niles has had severe insecurity issues since we were kids, I don't need to tell you that. He was constantly, as I was but to a somewhat lesser degree, craving for our mother's approval and love. You don't know very much about our mother do you?"

"No, I can't say that I do. Niles doesn't like to talk much about her."

"Our mother was distant, extremely difficult to please, and very demanding, especially of Niles since he was the youngest."

"She sounds just like Maris."

"Daphne, believe it or not, its not only women who marry men who remind them of their fathers, men tend to do the same thing. Marrying women who remind them of their mothers."

"I had no idea…"

"Unfortunately, whether male or female, doesn't matter, if one marries another that reminds him or her of a parent, the insecurities that the parent initially fostered are quite often and unconsciously reinforced by the spouse."

"Well, one can easily see the emotional damage Maris inflicted on him. But I had no idea that it all started with your mother."

"Listen to me Daph. I love you both and would hate for this drift between the two of you to go any further then it has already. Keep reaching out to him, don't turn your back on him. Not now. Especially not now when he needs you the most."

To be continued…


	9. A Cross Word Puzzle

**__**

A Cross Word Puzzle

"The doctor will be in soon to stitch up your hand. I brought you today's crossword puzzle from today's newspaper for you to do." The nurse hands me the paper before departing.

I look over some of the clues to see if I know any.

"_Phrase meaning "star of the sea" one of the many epithets for the Virgin Mary. Stella…"_

"Maris." I answer as the memory overtakes me.

"Ahem…" she impatiently and angrily summons me to her beck and call.

I look over the top of my Sunday paper to see her face formed in disdain.

I don't know if the disdain is directed at me or someone else.

"What is it?" I decide I better question her.

"Marta. She knows I eat no more than half a slice of toast for brunch, yet she still insists on giving me the whole slice...."

I slowly let out the breath I didn't even realize I was holding relieved that for once, I was not at the center of her ire.

"As for you…" Her voice clearly is upset, and she is upset with me too, and my failure to recognize her annoyance myself.

Here it comes, her exasperation of me. I quickly cut her off to avoid further escalating her anger.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. Adding, "I was wrong and I should have known better."

She cocks her eyebrows, her way to telling me she needs more.

"And I promise never to do so again."

Maris never forgives quickly, so I don't expect it, at least not today. I decide to change the subject.

"Shall we adjourn to the study?" I suggest.

Upon entering, we quickly fall into our familiar Sunday afternoon routines, her at her autoharp and I at my jigsaw puzzle.

Several hours lapse without a word shared or exchanged between us.

The silence is shattered with her cross words, "Niles, I am very ennuyé in how you…"

"Dr. Crane?" a voice summons me to the present.

"I'm also going to give you a prescription for some pain killers and an antibiotic to prevent an infection from setting in." The attending emergency room doctor informs me as he scribbles his chicken scratch disguised handwriting on his pad.

"Additionally, you'll have to wear a plastic bag over your hand when you shower and you'll need to change the dressing on it twice a day. Once in the morning, and right before bed." He finishes and rips off and hands me my prescription.

To be continued…


	10. Small Talk

**__**

Small Talk

It was difficult to determine which is more excruciating, the pain in my hand, my heart, or the drive home.

Though his motives were genuine and were stemming out of concern, I still knew what he was up to and what he was trying to do.

When I came out to the waiting room, Frasier gave me his lame excuse for not being able to take me home and in return, why he had called Daphne.

He was trying to get Daphne and I back together, or at the very least, to start talking.

Here we are, in Daphne's car and on our way home.

Awkward silences sporadically punctuated with nonessential small talk.

__

"Is that the best you can do?" she accuses.

Before answering, I had to double-check who was questioning my failure.

Mother or Maris.

"Your performance was," she continues her review and ridicule, "seriously lacking, inadequate, insufficient, meager, feeble, defective and error filled."

She sighs in disgust and disappointment.

"I had hoped that by withholding it from you all these months you would have improved."

"It." I mentally echo. She never could say the "s" word, and I determine who my accuser is.

Her face and lips then proceed to curl into a frown, indicators of her disappointment in my continuing "inadequate" performance.

Now it was my turn to frown.

For I had hoped it was Mother.

After all practice makes perfect, and it was much easier to practice on the piano then it was to…

"I'm sorry. I'll do better the next time," I vow.

"Isn't that what you promised me six months ago?" she reminded, pouncing on the opportunity that I had provided for her and to serve as a reminder of my shortcomings and continuing failure.

I apologize once more, but this time not for my performance.

But because the small boy had grown up to be an equally small man."

As with Mother, my apology was not enough.

She then banishes me, echoes of Mother, to my room.

To be continued…


	11. When Love Comes to Push

**__**

When Love Comes to Push

"I'll get the door," Daphne announces, jarring me from my memories.

She proceeds to unlock the same door she had marched out of, and had slammed shut behind her less than 24 hours earlier.

I follow her in and all I can do is think.

Daphne…Daphne…Daphne…

You're so beautiful, so perfect. You deserves nothing but happiness. I just love you so much. Unfortunately, for you My Love, you have fallen for the perpetual loser when it comes to trying to satisfy women. First Mother, then Maris, and now you. It pains me knowing that because of my shortcomings and failings, you will never receive what you so richly deserve and want more than anything. That is why I have to do this…

"Niles," she unknowingly disconnects me from my thoughts.

"Yes, My Love?"

"We need to talk, and we need to talk now."

I take in an unsteady breath and slowly let it out.

Show Time.

"I couldn't agree with you more…" I concur and mentally finish,

… it's the only way you will be able to secure your happiness.

-------

"I just want you to be happy. That's all I ever wanted to do, is to make you happy," I explain.

"So let me get this straight. You think that pushing me away and pushing me back to Donny of all people will make me happy…" she recaps bitterly.

"Daphne…" I attempt to calm her.

"Oh wait! I forgot! You're doing this because you love me," she quips, adding, "I guess you don't know me as well as you think you do Niles Crane."

"You're wrong, that is why I am doing this," I insist. "He can give you what I never will be able to."

"Like what? Money? Social standing? I could have had all those if I had married Donny too, but none of those things mean anything to me…"

"He can give you children," I sadly interrupt.

She looks at me for a long moment.

"Niles, this is not about money or social standing, it's not even about having children…"

"Which I can't…"

"Niles, please, let me finish. Yes, you're right. Donny could have given me a child. Is that what you want me to say?"

I don't know how to answer her.

"But this is where you're wrong Niles Crane. There is one thing he could never give me and that only you can."

I sigh regrettably.

"I give up. What can I possibly give you, especially now, that Donny couldn't? Can't?"

"You."

To be continued…


	12. Fractured Fairy Tales

**__**

Fractured Fairy Tales

__

…"and so they lived happily ever after. The End." Mother concluded the bedtime story and shut the book.

I frowned but at the same time became resolved.

"What is it Niles?" Mother asked her little boy of only five years.

"Nobody lives happily ever…"

"Have you been watching Dr. Wilson on television again with Frasier?"

I vehemently shook my head and sniffed to fight off the forthcoming blood.

"Niles…"

She was onto me and handed me a tissue.

I placed the tissue under my nose.

"Frasier likes him much more than I do, since he's a Freudian."

Mother stifled a chuckle at my admission. She looked into my troubled and pleading blue eyes that belied my joking demeanor.

"So, what makes you think that nobody lives happily ever after?"

I answered her question with a question of my own.

"Is everything okay between you and Daddy?"

I once overheard mother talk about Frasier and myself. That unlike my big brother I was more on the quiet side and was always more perceptive and sensitive to others and their feelings.

She tucked some loose hairs behind my ear in an attempt to comfort both my frayed nerves and me.

"Just take small breaths," she instructed as her mother's intuition had sensed my approaching anxiety attack.

After my anxiety attack concluded, she tucked me back into bed and kissed me on the forehead, never answering my question.

"Mommy…"

She poked her head back through the door.

"Yes Niles?"

"I know what I want to be when I grow up."

"What?"

"A psychiatrist just like you, and I think I'll specialize in marriage counseling so I can make fairy tales come true."

I met Maris and she reinforced everything I believed that nobody lives happily ever after.

After all, Mother cheated on Dad, Lilith on Frasier, and Maris cheated on me as well. Would they have cheated if everyone were living "happily ever after?"

I met Daphne and I started to have my first doubts, and slowly started to believe, maybe people can live happily ever after if they married someone as wonderful as her.

Somehow reality always finds a way to rear its ugly head, and this time was no exception.

Daphne met Donny.

I met Mel.

Daphne got engaged.

I had just been deluding myself.

With my hopes dashed, I hastily got married and instantly regretted it.

In the midst of that delusion, Daphne and I found each other, and we got married.

We were living a fairy tale. I was going to live happily ever after with the woman of my dreams.

I should have known better, having seen it too many times, but I was foolish enough to think since I was with Daphne I was somehow immune and thought it no longer would resurface.

Resurface it did and this time, as they say, it was personal.

Because of my failure, I turned our fairy tale into a fractured one, and now Daphne has, and rightly so, no reason to love me anymore.

"Niles? Do you feel just because you can't give me a child, that it's the end of our marriage?"

I look down, unable to look her in the eye, much less answer her.

"Let me tell you something Niles Crane. Many of my girlfriends are of the mindset that if they don't have certain things, like a husband or children or a lot of money that their life is somehow incomplete. When they talk about these things, I realize just how extremely lucky I am to have found you, and to have your love."

She lifts my chin so she can look into my eyes.

"Niles, I love you and I can't emphasize this enough. Yes, it has been a lifelong dream of mine to have children, but that was before I met you and eventually fell in love with you. I know we can still live our lives together and have a happy and fulfilling life even without children…"

For a brief moment, I almost believe her.

"Niles? Do you feel just because you can't give me a child, that it's the end of our marriage?" she asks me again.

Almost.

I rub my sore eyes that are red from crying and bloodshot from lack of sleep.

I yawn and I decide to head for bed.

I close my journal and set down my pen.

To be continued…


	13. Conditional Love The Best Kind There Is

**__**

Conditional Love (the Best Kind There is)

I wrinkle my nose.

Partly in disgust and partly as a failed attempt to block out the still permeating and nauseating clashing of smells her latest craving made.

Tonight it was jellied eels and scrambled eggs.

Last night it was peanut butter and caviar.

I should stop complaining, for I am partly to blame for all this. It was our shared and mutual love for one another that gave birth (okay, poor word choice) to her cravings, which, if you ask her, is a 'delectable' (stomach churning if you ask me) side effect of her "condition."

I finish rinsing the bowl (somehow), proud of myself that I didn't get sick as I had a few nights earlier.

I make my way back upstairs and on my way back to our bedroom, I decide to take a detour.

I stop in and take a peak.

Before too long it would be occupied.

I go over to the dresser and pick up the picture that sits atop it.

I squint and closely study the picture that now rests in my hands.

__

"How can you say such a thing?" she snaps at me, out of disappointment more than being upset with me.

__

I hand her back the picture.

"I'm sorry, My Love," I apologize. "It still looks like a Rorschach inkblot."

"No, Niles…" she begins, this time more sympathetic.

__

Her mood has swung and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. It's me raging hormones kicking into overdrive again."

__

I lean over and give her a kiss on her forehead. "Apology accepted."

"Look here is…" she then proceeds to point out to me a half dozen or so "body parts" (her words, not mine) as proof that there really is someone there.

I return the picture to the dresser and make my way out of the room, just before I turn off the lights and shut the door I smile and think to myself. It still looked like a Rorschach inkblot.

"Niles? " she asks as I reenter the room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." I ask for her forgiveness as I slide back under the covers and wrap my arm around her ever expanding mid section.

"You didn't," she informs me.

I start to drift off.

"Niles."

"Yes, My Love," I reply, almost asleep.

"My water just broke…"

__

The End

__

A/N: To all my loyal readers/reviewers (Nancy, Renee, Remus…you know who you are, even if I may not) I thank you for your encouragement, comments, feedback, reviews etc. It was because of you and your support of not only me but for the belief you had in this story and its potential that provided me the courage to continue when I had my reservations. Thank you everyone for your patience through longer then anticipated delays and for sticking with the story and me. I dedicate this chapter to every one of you. (-: DHPFAN


End file.
